Duty
by Cass Purser
Summary: Arya has time to reflect after the battle of Urubaen. Arya POV. One-shot.


In the far corner of Alagaesia the forest was quiet, seemingly at peace with itself. The peace lay at odds with the turmoil Arya felt inside her heart.

Arya rode her steed gently down the dirt path that wandered between the trees. The sun was bright through the leaves of Du Weldenvarden, giving the forest the warm hope of a late spring day. On the saddle in front of her sat a sturdy leather pouch, secured by a strap across her torso but guarded protectively with one arm while the other managed the reins.

It had been weeks since the battle of Urubaen. The days following had been too busy for Arya to properly reflect and accept all that had transpired. The hours had been blurred together by an impossible mixture of grief, relief, and exhaustion. She had been mired in a constant sea of obligation - in healing the Varden of the toxins released in the battle, her arranging of the laying of her mother, and protecting the egg they'd recovered from the castle. She could feel the warmth of that egg now, seeping through the silk lined leather to her bare wrist and hand.

It wasn't until she'd departed for Ellesmera with the egg and her mothers body that she'd had time to actually think. Now as the hours dragged, it seemed to be too much time for reflection.

All Arya had dared to hope had come true. Galbatorix was dead. Her people were safe. The egg, rescued. Her absolute joy of the trove of eggs that were discovered on Vroenguard, along with the souls of hundreds of dragons thought lost. Her companions, Eragon, alive.

It should be enough to make Arya weep in joy. She should be lost in wonder, at the hopeful future and return of the riders past. The return of the age of dragons and the world her father gave his life to protect. But despite it all, she couldn't bring herself to light the spark of joy in her heart. It was too muddled, damp and cold to support a flame.

As a youngling, Arya had been her father's child. She was always at his knee, an eager recipient of his knowledge and wisdom of the affairs of her people and support of the riders. He imparted in her the ability to see value in all the races of Alagaesia and the sense of duty the elves must have to protect others with their strength and magic.

His death and the rise of Galbatorix had utterly collapsed the world as she knew it. Islanzadi may have taken the throne, but it had been Arya who inherited Evandar's cause. His spirit lived on in her, driving her to place the good of her people and all of Alagaesia before her own hopes and wants.

It was frustratingly cruel that her mother never understood Arya's inheritance. Under Islanzadi's rule, the elves had hid away in the forest, to mourn what was lost and wish fruitlessly for change. To Evandar's daughter it had been suffocating, driving her quickly to accept the Yawe and assume the role of protecting the last dragon egg. That had been the first time Arya had truly defied her mother's wishes. That argument had been loud, but the years of silence between them thereafter had been deafening.

The day they reunited in Ellesmera, with Eragon and Saphira in tow, Arya had dared hope her mother finally saw the worth in Arya's actions. Instead the opposite was true, her ordeal in Gilead seemed justification to Islanzadi that she was right. Worse, it was as though her mother expected Arya to regret her calling and renounce it, an absolute affront considering it had been her sense of duty that held Arya together during the darkest days of her imprisonment.

Arya was similarly disappointed in her mother when she was asked to stay behind and allow Eragon to face Galbatorix alone. It pained her that her mother still would only see her as a child, not worthy of the cause she'd devoted herself to all these years. It was the ultimate insult that her mother could even think Arya capable of deserting her duty now.

And now her mother was dead.

Weeks later, grief still weighed heavy on Arya's mind. She loved her mother, and it was beyond doubt that Islanzadi loved her. Their tumultuous relationship was simply a result of Islanzadi's denial keeping her from seeing her daughter as anything other than what Islanzadi wished to see. Arya had responded in kind with anger, and allowed herself to be stubborn enough to not speak with her mother for years. And while Arya's stubbornness may have faded, even to the end Islanzadi's denial had not.

It was cruel of fate to have separated the two over Arya's duty to her people, just to have Islanzadi die before seeing the success Arya had fought for. Would her mother have understand then?

As a fresh pang of grief struck Arya's core, the egg in her lap shifted slightly. "I'm sorry, little one." she murmured, shifting the leather to stroke the green marble inside. "I promise to show you that there is more to life than just pain and grief. The days passed have been dark, and I've been left to think on them for too long. I'm sorry."

The warm light inside flared slightly in response to her voice.

Before long, the party of elves and horses passed by the protective gaze of Gilderien to enter the safety of the Elven city. Her kin were eager to return home, but Arya felt anything but. There was nothing left for her in Ellesmera, now that her mother had passed through the void. Her years of service had left little time for companionship, and the few friends she'd made were either long dead or left behind in the Varden.

It was with that empty dread that Arya asked to be alone with her thoughts for the evening, promising to remain within the safety of the city.

The cool wind stirred the leaves slowly around her as the light became long and golden with the impending sunset. The egg in her lap shifted again.

"I promise you will know more than just loneliness, little one." Arya said gently, holding the egg a little closer. "Soon, you will meet many of my kind who will want to bond with you and show you the joys that this world processes. Your rider will be free to raise you in a world without the dark shadow Galbatorix had shed over us for so long. You will be free to love, feast, and dance. It would mean nothing more to me to see you enjoy that, after all these years."

Arya released a heavy breath, looking upwards. "I thought my mission would be over, with the death of that cursed king. But I still don't feel satisfied. There is still more to be done. I don't know what lays ahead, but I do know it begins with you. The new age of riders will not begin until the first dragon is hatched in a free Alagaesia."

Arya let her fingers drift lightly over the emerald spider veins that embossed the outer shell of the egg. "You'll meet your rider, and you will no longer know of loneliness." she continued softly. "Your companion will share your hopes and wants, and together you will be able to accomplish so much. There is nothing more beautiful than the bond between two like minded beings. It may not seem like it now, but I've been fortunate enough to experience it, once."

Once? Arya frowned. Twice. Faolin had been the first to understand her duty, but it was Eragon who truly shared the drive that led them both willingly into such danger.

Eragon, the human boy who had matured into the hero that was part man, part more. Eragon, who seemingly understood her deeper than any had cared to before.

"You'll have the honour of learning the old ways from Eragon and Saphira, as they had learned from the riders past. You will have access to strength and skill beyond imagination, traversing even the strongest storms as Saphira did in Vroenguard. I admire them fiercely, and am jealous of the time you will spend with them." she admitted, feeling the small nudges and watching the light flicker as she spoke.

"Right now, they're busy ensuring the rest of the Empire will be safe for you in the ages ahead. But don't be afraid, little one. You are safe here with me, I will never allow any harm to come to you."

The egg was suddenly very active, wobbling and flickering brightly. Arya frowned, stopping her horse and dismounting. She stood on the forest floor, taking the egg out of the pouch to hold it closely to her chest.

"What's wrong? What has distressed you, little one?" Arya was alarmed, she'd never seen an egg behave in this manner. A sudden loud crack startled her, the sound of rock clashing violently with rock. The egg became too hot to hold, forcing Arya to place it on the forest floor and step back.

Cold fear gripped her, that they'd missed some spell cast by the wretched king. But yet she could sense no magic, only...

The muffled consciousness inside the egg burst brightly inside her mind to become a clear being as the shell visibly cracked, shifting. A small cry came from the egg.

Arya fell heavily to the ground, unable to believe the sight before her. A small green dragon head poked through the shell, uttering a small chirp as it extricated itself from the rest of the egg.

"Little one... there is no one here. Whom did you hatch for?" Arya struggled to form words. She looked around wildly, expecting to see someone hidden in the leaves behind her. It couldn't be that the egg hatched for her?

The dragon looked at her, it's deep green eye striking her to the core. The consciousness before her, unmistakably male, beheld her with such profound affection that her eyes instantly filled with tears. Without words the message was clear: he had hatched for her.

Weeping, Arya allowed herself to crawl forward. She had to touch him, she had to feel that this was real before she could actually allow herself to believe this was true. Her left palm brushed the side of her dragon's jaw, and an electric pain instantly struck her hand. She flinched, astounded to find the gedwey ignasia shining brightly on her palm.

"This is real. This is real. You are my dragon and this is real." Arya could only murmur the same words over and over again in wonder as they sat together on the forest floor. It wasn't until the last of the sunlight faded that Arya even noticed any time had passed. She had been too struck with overwhelming joy at what had transpired.

This was real. This was her dragon. This was her dragon and Arya was to be her rider.

The days ahead no longer seemed so dark or lonely. Beyond the void, Arya knew her parents would be proud.


End file.
